


Found Family

by MsBarrows



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships, Multi, Period-Typical Language, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Secret Children, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship, implied polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBarrows/pseuds/MsBarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Marvel POC Exchange. Among the many things the requester was interested in, I drew inspiration from the following items, which have shown up in this fic in varying degrees:</p><blockquote>
  <p>Antoine Triplet/Jemma Simmons, Gabe Jones/Peggy Carter, Nick Fury/Melinda May, backstory, poly relationships, secret relationship reveals,  examining outside influences on a relationship (personal level or societal), hurt/comfort, generations of interracial/poly relationships at SHIELD and how things have changed</p>
</blockquote>Many thanks to emotionalmorphine for the last-minute beta!
            </blockquote>





	Found Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dazzledfirestar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/gifts).



Antoine looked up from stirring the stock pot at the sound of the front door unlocking. He tapped the spoon on the rim before setting it down on a spoon rest, then took the couple of steps to the archway that led to the front hall, leaning out enough to see that it was Jemma coming in. Not that he was expecting it to be anyone else, but...

She looked sad, was his first thought, taking in her slumped posture and lowered head, even before she became aware of his presence and glanced his way, forcing a thin smile that was belied by her red-rimmed eyes. He froze for a moment, then stepped out into the hallway. "You okay? Something wrong with Leo?"

She shook her head, face crumpling slightly. "No more than was wrong yesterday, or the day before. He was having a good day, actually."

"But you not so much?"

"No. Not so much," she agreed, face crumpling further, voice thickening.

Wordlessly he held open his arms, folding her into a comforting hug as she quickly moved to lean against him, burying her face against his shoulder as she broke into tears. He held her close with one hand resting on the small of her back, the other rubbing up and down her spine, resting his cheek against the crown of her head and making little comforting noises. It was several minutes before she calmed down again, straightening up and stepping away from him, sniffling noisily and giving him an unhappy look.

"Sorry," she said, and wiped at her tear-marked cheeks with her hand. "I just... I just..."

"It's okay," he said gently. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and comfortable, and then you can tell me all about it, okay?"

She bit her lips for a moment, then nodded, visibly straightening up. "Yes. Okay," she agreed, and let him wrap one arm around her and guide her into the living room, leaning against him a little as he did.

He snagged the afghan from the back of the couch, draping it carefully around her and seeing her settled comfortably. "You stay right there," he told her. "I'll be right back."

Jemma nodded again, kicking off her shoes and curling up as he left. He ducked into the hallway bathroom long enough to dampen a facecloth with warm soapy water and get a hand towel, then hurried back, sitting down on the edge of the couch and carefully wiping her face clean before handing her the towel. "Would you prefer a glass of wine, or a pot of tea?"

She smiled gratefully at him. "Tea please," she said. "Thank you."

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth, then rose and went back into the kitchen. He filled the kettle and put it on the stove, then got the big old Brown Betty teapot down. He hesitated over the collection of canisters of different loose-leaf teas, started to take down the Darjeeling that was one of Jemma's current favourites, then abruptly changed his mind, putting it back and taking down the bright red cardboard box of Typhoo tea bags instead; comfort over quality. While he waited for the water to come to the boil he set up the tray with mugs, milk, sugar, and spoons, then swirled a little boiling water in the pot, dumped it out, counted in tea bags – one for each cup, plus one for the pot – and filled it. He hesitated again, then dug through the cabinets to find some cookies, arranging an assortment on a plate and adding it to the tray before carrying the whole thing out to the living room to set down on the coffee table.

Jemma was turned sideways, leaning against the back of the couch, looking drained. She straightened up a little as he sat down beside her, then smiled as he handed her the plate of cookies. "Thank you," she said, quickly selecting a dark chocolate-dipped digestive to nibble on, then offered the plate to him. He took a piece of plain shortbread for himself, then shifted so that he could put one arm out along the back of the sofa. Jemma immediately moved to tuck herself in against his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"So, you want to tell me about it?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her.

"He was having a good day," she repeated. "He's able to walk with just a cane now, though it's the tremors in his hands that seem to frustrate him the most – as he says, he can sit on a stool to work, but he still needs the use of his hands to actually _do_ anything once he's sitting down at a workbench. His therapist says the fine motor control should return, it will just take time and patience. He's never been very good at patience."

She paused, and then gave an odd little laugh. "He has a monkey now. He's always wanted one... it's a service animal, to help fetch things for him – tools and small components and the like. He was showing me how they work together, using a laser pointer to show it what he wanted it to bring him. Her to bring him. He's named her Kiki."

"Is that after Kiki's Delivery Service?" Antoine asked, grinning.

Jemma laughed, sounding more herself. "Yes! She's a darling little animal – a capuchin. She likes to curl up on his shoulder when she's not doing something. Sometimes she'll groom his hair while he works. He talks to her as if she can understand every word he says; she watches him as if she can. He's completely taken with her."

Antoine smiled and tightened his arm around her for a moment in a brief hug. "Sounds like Leo's making an excellent recovery then."

"He is," Jemma agreed, then sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder again. "I think that's what upset me, actually. He was so like his old today... so cheerful. It was almost like him from before. Almost. And it really hit me when I left... that Leo is gone forever. He's different now. He used to be so optimistic about everything, he trusted people so easily... too easily, perhaps. He's been hurt by that before, but never like this... never like how badly Grant hurt him. Not just the physical damage from the oxygen deprivation and decompression sickness, but... mentally. Emotionally. He's never found it easy to make friends, and he thought he had a real connection with Ward. To have it betrayed, _us_ betrayed like that, by someone he thought he could trust..."

She sighed again, falling silent, pushing around some of the cookies on the plate in her lap.

"Tea should be ready," he pointed out. "Want me to pour?"

"No, I'll do it," she said, straightening up and setting her feet back down on the floor. She handed the cookie plate to him, then busied herself with preparing them each a mug of tea; milky and sweet for him, and just barely touched with milk for herself. She handed him his mug then took another cookie from the plate, dipping it in her tea before nibbling on it, which made him smile at her.

"I know, it's an awful habit," she told him, smiling briefly in return. Antoine just sipped at his mug of tea and picked out a cookie for himself, a gingersnap this time.

"If I ever see Grant Ward again, it's going to be very hard not to try and kill him," she said in a calm tone of voice. "Have you ever felt that way about anyone?"

"A time or two, yeah. About Garrett, most recently. Part of me regrets that I wasn't the one who took him out, after everything he did. Part of me is glad it wasn't me; that's a heavy weight to have to carry."

"For Fitz, I'd carry it," Jemma said, her voice fierce this time.

"It's easier to carry for people you love," he agreed.

"And I do love him, just... not the way he wants me to," Jemma said, and then sighed again. "I know it's trite, but I love him like a brother. A younger socially awkward brother. He's my partner, in some ways he's almost my other half, but... and now I feel weird, telling you about how I love another man."

Trip laughed, and hugged her again. "Don't feel weird. I understand found family; you don't have to have a tie of blood or marriage to be connected. Sometimes, you just _are_. Anyway, we've got a long-standing tradition of found family in _my_ family. My maternal grandparents had an unusual family life."

"Gabe Jones did? Really?"

Trip grinned. "Now you're making the same wrong assumption that everyone seems to make. I _am_ related to Papa Gabriel, but not the way most people assume I am."

Jemma straightened up a little, turning to give him a look of surprise. "But... you _are_ descended from one of the Howling Commandos, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but not Gabe. He's a cousin of my grandmother. It's complicated..."

"Tell me? Complicated might take my mind off things."

He smiled fondly at her. "Sure. It started with the Commandos, of course..."

* * *

Gabe walked out onto the porch, smiling and raising a hand in greeting towards the car just pulling up in front of the farmhouse, sides well-coated with dust from the dirt back roads. "You found the place," he called as the car doors opened, three familiar figures emerging.

"Only just," Montgomery called back as he got out from behind the wheel. "I was beginning to think I might actually need to stop and ask for directions."

"I knew you came from somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, but I didn't think it was this far out into the boonies," Dum-Dum agreed as he rose from the passenger side.

"Nice place," Morita said, glancing around at the surrounding fields and the orchard to one side of the house as he helped his visibly pregnant wife out of the back seat.

"You'd know good farmland," Gabe said, smiling, then exchanged greetings with the three men of the shoulder-blow and one-armed hug sort with the three men. Monica took him by the hands and pulled him down to kiss him on the cheek.

"The others here yet?" Dum-Dum asked, glancing around.

"No, though they should be here soon – and I bet that's them now," he said, his ears catching the sound of another car engine approaching.

Sure enough a large and fancy roadster pulled into the drive a moment later, coming to a stop just behind the first car. "Hello boys!" Peggy called as she leaned out the driver's window.

"Stark not driving?" Dum-Dum asked, sounding surprised.

"He couldn't make it after all," Peggy said as she climbed out. "Business. His business, not mine. Loaned me his car for the drive out at least."

Jacques got out from the car as well, exchanging warm greetings with the other commandos, his English much improved since the days when Gabe had needed to translate most things for him. But then Jacques was working for this new SHIELD thing Peggy was co-Director of, so learning reasonably fluent English had become a priority for him.

"Well, let's all head indoors," Gabe said, gesturing towards the farmhouse. "Mama and the girls have refreshments laid on, and there'll be a big dinner later."

"Girls? You have sisters, Gabe?" Morita asked.

"One sister, many cousins," Gabe said, smiling. "Mama's drafted them all to help with the cooking and cleaning while you're all here. Claims it's because she's not as spry as she used to be, I think she just likes lording over a crowded kitchen. But don't tell her I said that," he added with a wink. They laughed as they followed him into the house.

They were soon all settled in the front parlour, with cold drinks and several plates of things to nibble on, carried in by some of the younger cousins, who all looked a little star-struck about meeting Gabe's famous friends. Conversation mostly revolved around catching up on what each of them had been doing since their most recent reunion the year before. That one had been at Jim Morita's wedding to Monica out in California, at his family's vineyards north of San Diego.

"So tell us more about this SHIELD entity you and Stark are founding," Monty eventually said. "He's been talking it up a lot, wanting the rest of us to sign on."

"I've already signed on," Dum-Dum pointed out. "You could have just asked me."

"Dear boy, I would have if I thought your explanation would be both understandable and anything close to accurate. I'd rather hear what Margaret has to say about it."

"Oh I see how it is," Dum-Dum said, smiling. "You'd rather listen to a pretty girl do all the talking." He winked broadly at Peggy before raising his beer back to his lips.

She rolled her eyes at him, then leaned forward and explained what the SSR was turning into; what SHIELD was meant to be.

* * *

"So you're descended from one of those numerous cousins of Gabe's? And one of the other commandos? Which one? Oh, let me try and guess... it can't be Jim Morita, you've already mentioned his wife was there... hrmm... Dum-Dum Dugan?"

Antoine laughed. "No, not him either. Come on, this should be an easy guess. Does it help if I tell you I'm named after my great-grandfather?"

"Antoine...? _Oh!_ Jacques Dernier!"

"Yeah," Trip agreed, smiling at her. "Remember how I once said that sometimes people surprise you? Well, Jacques met one of Gabe's cousins that night; my Grandmother Evelyn. And they surprised each other..."

* * *

"More potatoes, Monsier Dernier?" the pretty young woman asked.

Jacques smiled and nodded, absently noticing her correct pronunciation of the brief bit of French. "Oui," he said, and looked questioning at her. "You speak French?"

A smile curved her lips as she spooned another serving of herbed fried potatoes onto his plate. "Un petit peu," she said.

"More than just a little bit," Gabe said, smiling warmly at her, then turned to Jacques. "Evelyn and I were planning on taking a trip to Europe so she could tour some of the great centres of art. It's why I learned so many languages; Mama had volunteered me to be Evelyn's escort for the trip as soon as she heard I was learning French, so I picked up Italian and German as well. Evelyn speaks pretty good French, and I've also taught her enough Italian to get by on."

Jacques looked with interest at the pair. "Ah, an art tour? You are interested in art? Where did you plan to go?" he asked.

"Paris, of course," she said. "Florence, Vienna... we had the itinerary all planned out, before the war."

"Evelyn's an artist," Gabe said, sounding proud of his cousin. "Mostly oils and watercolours. And she teaches art and French at the local school."

"At least as much art as I can teach on the little budget we have for it," Evelyn agreed, giving Gabe an amused look.

"Evelyn! The potatoes!" Mama called out from the far end of the table.

"Pardonnez-moi," Evelyn said, and continued around the table, serving seconds of potatoes to more of the group. Jacques watched her leave with interest, before turning his attention back to his plate.

Later that evening, when he encountered her on the wide porch that wrapped around two sides of the house, it seemed the most natural thing to greet her in French, and then fall into conversation about art, and Europe before the war. A conversation that shifted freely back and forth between English and French, and lasted for hours, the two of them sitting side-by-side on the steps, watching fireflies flickering in the nearby orchard as they spoke.

* * *

"She and Jacques hit it off pretty fast; thick as thieves by the end of the first evening, according to family history. Of course, he was only supposed to be there for a couple of days, for the reunion. But he wasn't the only person busy falling head over heels, it turned out."

"Oh? Who else?" Jemma asked, sounding fascinated.

"Gabriel was busy falling hard for the one unattached female there that he wasn't related to."

Jemma gasped. "Not... you mean Peggy Carter? _Director_ Carter?"

"Yes, I do. And it wasn't one-sided, not at all."

* * *

Peggy took a seat on the porch swing, admiring the well-tended orchard beside the house. She could see Gabriel and Morita walking along the lanes between the trees, clearly engaged in conversation about the orchard; Gabe gestured at a tree, and Morita stepped closer to it, pulling down a branch tip to take a closer look and gesture in turn at something. Dum-Dum and Monty trailed them at a distance, heads together and obviously discussing something that wasn't the farm. SHIELD, at a guess – Montgomery was interested in joining up. All of the commandos had expressed varying degrees of interest, though Jim Morita had already made it clear that his imminent fatherhood meant that he couldn't take any truly active role in the fledgling organization, at least not any time soon or for anything less than an emergency.

Laughter from around the other side of the house revealed where Jacques was. She couldn't make out the words he was saying, but judging by his tone of voice he was flirting with someone – either Gabe's mother, who took to flirtation like a duck to water and had been exchanging increasingly extravagant remarks with all of the commandos since their arrival, or to that lovely young cousin of Gabe's. The cousin, she decided, by the amused young voice that responded to whatever Jacques had said.

She frowned for a moment, worrying a little over Jacques' obvious attraction to the young woman. She didn't see anything wrong with it herself, but she knew that to many people in the US such a relationship would be viewed uneasily at best and more likely garner the pair hostility, even violence in some areas. That ugly invented word, _miscegenation_... and the laws against same that were on the books in a number of US states.

Approaching voices made her look up. Gabe and the others had left the orchard and were walking towards the house in a group, talking and laughing, clearly all in excellent humour. She smiled, watching them, and thinking of how pleased Steve would have been to see them all together like this, after the war, still friends.

"Peggy, we're heading indoors in search of cold beverages – join us?" Monty called out as they drew closer.

She smiled and shook her head, holding up the large glass of lemonade she had – well, mostly lemonade, with a shot of gin. "Thank you, I have a drink already," she told them. "I'm going to stay out here and enjoy the view a little longer, I think."

"You fellows go on ahead indoors," Gabe said, pausing at the top of the stairs. "I'm going to stay out here and talk with Miss Carter for a little while. You all know where the beer is kept."

"Sure," Dum-Dum said, glancing back and forth between the pair of them. "Come on, boys."

The group of them vanished indoors. Gabe smiled almost shyly at Peggy, then joined her on the swing. He didn't say anything at first, just sitting back and looking out over the view.

"It's a beautiful place, this farm," Peggy said after a while.

"It is," Gabe agreed. "My father loved this view; it's why he hung this swing here. He liked to sit out here in the evenings, look at the view of the orchard and the hills beyond."

They fell silent again, watching the cloud-shadows moving over the distant hills. Not an awkward silence; a companionable one. Laughter could be heard from inside the house, and Dum-Dum talking in that particularly loud voice he used when telling funny stories. Quieter voices marked where Jacques and Evelyn were still talking together, just out of sight. Evelyn laughed for a moment, and Gabe smiled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. "Jacques seems to be pretty happy about his job with SHIELD," he said.

Peggy nodded. "He is. And I'm glad to have him; he's a good worker, and an excellent assistant for me. I do hope more of you will decide to sign on as well; it's good work that we'll be doing. Important work."

"I'm already pretty sold on the idea," Gabe said. "The organization you've described, its goals, it sounds like something the Captain would have approved of."

Peggy smiled warmly at him. "I like to think so. Whenever I have difficulty deciding which of several options to take when making decisions, I often ask myself what Steve would have considered to be the right thing to do. It doesn't always give me a workable answer, but it's... a touchstone, I suppose you could say. He was a good man, and willing to sacrifice himself for others, for what was right; I would hope never to be a disappointment to him."

Gabe nodded. "I sometimes find myself considering the same question... what would the Captain say or do. I know it won't always be the obvious or easy choice; but things that are good, that are worth doing... they're worth a little difficulty to accomplish. A little hardship. SHIELD sounds like it may be one of those things, if you can do it _right_."

She nodded. "That's the key point – and the hard part. It's certainly a balancing act, trying to build an organization that can and will do what needs to be done, without producing one that abandons its ideals in favour of some short-term goal. One that can wield the power it will potentially have some day without being corrupted by it; avoiding taking shortcuts that might let the wrong sorts of people gain power within the organization. That's why I want the Commandos, as many of you as are willing to sign on; you knew Steve, worked with him, know what kind of things he'd approve of or stand against. If we can start off SHIELD with people like yourselves... well, it's like the starter bit of yeast for bread or beer-making. The starter usually determines the final outcome; you want the best you can get."

Gabe smiled slowly at her. "And you want us to be your starter."

"Better you than some of the other candidates I've had to work with," Peggy said dryly. "Almost a full year now that I've been co-Director – and with Howard gone enough on Stark Industries business that I might as well be sole Director – and there's still people who think I'm good for nothing more than fetching them a coffee. Who think I got the job by being Howard's bit on the side, that I'm some sort of figurehead, or worse."

"You're not Howard's bit on the side," Gabe said, in a voice that made it clearly a statement of fact and not a question.

"Definitely not. Not that _he'd_ object, he's made his interest in me clear, but... well. I like him as a friend, nothing more."

She didn't miss seeing the brief smile that lighted Gabe's face, and found herself smiling back in turn. "I could use a man with your skills at languages," she said. "Not to mention at diplomacy. A direct aide to me, like Jacques is; you'd have a very short chain of command, and a reasonable bit of power; a small department of your own, if you fit in where I think you can."

"That might ruffle a few feathers... a coloured person in a position of authority," he pointed out, eyebrows lifting slightly.

"Then let them be ruffled," she said, voice hardening for a moment. "I know that integration is definitely something that Steve would have approved of; you Commandos are living proof of his feelings on the matter. Nationality, race, sex... none of it matters. What counts is the goodness in your hearts, the strengths of your characters, and the skills of your hands and minds."

Gabe's smile widened. "You think well of us."

"Steve clearly did. I'm more than willing to accept his judgement."

"Well, I know I'm not the only one interested in signing up for this. Why don't we go inside and talk it over with the others for a little while?"

"Certainly," Peggy said, rising to her feet.

"Hey Jacques!" Gabe called out as he rose as well. "Stop flirting with my cousin and get your derreire indoors. Group meeting."

"Of course," Jacques called back, followed by the sounds of whispering and a giggle before they heard the creak of the front door opening. Gabe gave Peggy an amused look, then opened the side door and gestured for her to precede him inside.

* * *

Gabe, Jacques and Peggy watched the others leave just after breakfast the next morning, heading to the airport to get the Moritas onto their flight back to the west coast. Monty and Dum-Dum would be driving to New York after that, to meet up with Howard Stark there and see about getting Monty signed on with SHIELD. Jacques and Peggy would be leaving after lunch, headed back to Washington; Gabe planned to travel with them, and had already packed a suitcase the night before.

"Come on, let's go back in... I'd best help Mama with the breakfast dishes," Gabe said.

Jacques smiled. "No cousins to take care of them?"

"Not today," Gabe said, then gave Jacques an amused look. "Hoping for one cousin in particular to make an appearance?"

Jacques blushed. "Perhaps."

"She seems quite taken with you," Peggy said as she followed the men to the kitchen.

"She is," Gabe agreed. "Now, normally this is the place where I'd give you a stern talking to, but I already know you're a good man and would treat her right. But I do have to ask, are you serious about her? Because in this country, you'd better know what you're getting into and be very damned serious. Pardon my French, Miss Carter."

"Please, Gabriel... I'm sure I know just as much of _that_ particular variety of 'French' as you do, if not more. Or are you gentlemen forgetting that I served too?"

Jacques grinned, making an amused sound. "I am sure you do," he agreed with careful gravity. "Having heard you swear like a sailor after that operation two weeks ago..."

"Oh dear. Please don't remind me, I still regret not having expressed my opinions on Corporal Ross' rampant stupidity in a more physical manner. Lord preserve me from regular Army and their antediluvian attitudes!"

"Oh my. Is this a story I should hear?" Gabe asked as he began to fill the sink.

" _No_ ," Peggy said firmly, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Jacques laughed. "I will tell it to you later, perhaps," he said, and picked up a dish towel, then moved to wait by the draining board.

By the time Gabe's Mama came into the kitchen a while later, Gabe and Jacques had most of the dishes washed, dried, and put away, while Peggy had brewed a pot of tea and was sitting at the table drinking a cup of it and looking on as they worked.

"Now that's the way to do it," Mama said approvingly, and went over to the cupboards, taking down a plate and arranging cookies on it before joining Peggy at the table. "I hear you're taking this one off my hands for a while," she said, gesturing at Gabe, who twisted around enough to give them both an amused smile.

"I certainly am," Peggy said. "And glad to have him. Thank you for having us all here; it's been a wonderful weekend."

"The least I could do, after how I've heard so much from my Gabriel about the Commandos, and how they all saved each other more than once. Makes them all the next-best thing to family, as far as I'm concerned."

Peggy smiled warmly at the two men. "That sounds about right," she agreed. "Found family, as opposed to one of blood."

"The best kind, sometimes," Mama said, then settled back comfortably in her chair, a cup of tea in hand. "I'll be seeing you all well-fed before you leave. A couple of the girls are coming over one last time to help. Including Evelyn, of course," she added, turning a sharp eye on Jacques.

He flushed, and set down the plate he'd just finished drying. "I must ask... I do not know how you Americans do it. If I wish to court Evelyn, who must I speak to for permission? Her father? Someone else in her family?"

"You're serious about her then," Gabe said, pausing in washing up the last of the cutlery.

"Very," Jacques said. "I know it has been only a few days... but the heart knows what it wants when it finds it."

Mama smiled warmly at him. "So it does. Well, you can't talk to her father, seeing as he's been under soil these last nine years, but either her mother or her Pastor or her favourite Aunt would do. And just look, her favourite Aunt is sitting right here. Better ask fast, young man."

Jacques smiled broadly at her. "May I court your Evelyn then? You do not object?"

"To a man Gabriel vouches for? No objections on _my_ part. But are you aware of just what you'd be getting into, marrying a coloured woman around here?"

"Not really, I must admit... I know there are places here where such a union is not considered decent?"

"Worse than that," Gabriel spoke up, frowning. "In some parts – particularly in the south – it could get you locked up – it's illegal there. Or worse than just locked up. Even more so if you were a coloured man showing any interest in marrying a white woman," he added, and glanced at Peggy in a way that had her biting her lip. She was aware of his interest, of course, though so far he'd been very reticent about making any moves beyond a few friendly conversations. And... she had to admit, she wasn't uninterested. He was a good man, and a gentleman, intelligent, good-looking... with just the sort of quiet sense of humour she enjoyed most, too. And like with Steve, her being female didn't make him treat her as any sort of lesser being.

"Well, I am not a citizen of your United States, and in France we have not had such laws for over a century now. If she will have me, I plan to marry your Evelyn," Jacques was saying firmly.

"Well, then I suppose I should have a word with her when she comes over later," Mama said complacently, while looking very pleased. "And with my sister, so she knows you're on the up-and-up."

"Thank you," Jacques said humbly. "I would appreciate it very much."

* * *

"And of course Evelyn was entirely pleased to marry him; they'd both fallen hard for each other," Antoine said, smiling. "So there was another gathering of the Commandos the next year in Washington, for them all to attend Jacques' wedding and meet Jim Morita Junior. Even Stark made it out that time, though he spent more time at the Capitol doing some lobbying and meeting with useful political and military contacts than with the wedding party. It was a working visit for him; pretty much everything was work-related for him by then."

"That must have been pretty special – a wedding for one of the Howling Commandos!"

"Nah, by then they'd all pretty much dropped off the radar. Apart from Dum-Dum, who was always kind of hard to miss. So it was a quiet little affair, held at a reasonably nice place just outside the city, very low-key. Jacques' mother and sisters came over for the wedding, and a whole passel of Evelyn's side of the family. Gabe was Jacques' best man, of course. Though it was what happened after the wedding that was the really interesting part; the part almost no one outside a very small group ever knew about for many years."

"And what was that?" Jemma asked, sounding fascinated.

"Another wedding, of a sort."

* * *

Peggy smiled and waved as Howard drove away, then sighed in relief, face relaxing into a more carefree expression. "Thank god that's over with," she said fervently.

Gabe smiled at her from where he was piling up the wedding gifts on a cart to take indoors. "Howard getting on your nerves again?" he asked sympathetically.

"Yes. He's likeable enough in small doses, but having just spent almost the entire day in his company..." She trailed off, sounding irked, and came over to help him with loading the cart. "He can't seem to decide whether to treat me as the next-best thing to Captain Rogers' widow and some sort of untouchable shrine in his honour, or as his own destined soul-mate and future wife. I think some of the rumours about how I became co-Director may have gone to his head. Or to a much more lowly body part."

Gabe laughed. "But you don't think of him that way."

"Not in the least. He makes a reasonable co-worker and a good friend, but I have no interest in marrying the man. My heart is already given away," she said, giving Gabe a side-ways look.

Gabe smiled and looked down, feigning extra care in putting the last couple of items on the cart. "You don't want to marry me," he said, stubbornly, continuation of an argument they'd been having for a couple of months now.

"You know that isn't true," she said. "I'd say yes in a heartbeat if you'd ask. And if you put it off much longer, I may have to take advantage of the next Sadie Hawkins day and ask _you_."

Gabe laughed, giving her an amused look. "I'll be sure to be out of town that day then," he said. "Look, we've discussed the pros and cons of this before. Marrying anyone would have a substantial and mostly detrimental impact on your career; there's too many men who as soon as you had a ring on your finger would stop seeing you as Director Carter and would instead see Mrs Jones, who should be in a kitchen somewhere, making life perfect for her husband instead of hard for them, and popping out babies instead of plans of operation. Marrying me, a man of colour? Even worse, for a big chunk of them. You know this, Margaret."

"That doesn't mean I agree with it. Remember what I once said about thinking about what Steve would choose when I'm faced with hard decisions? I'm pretty damned sure I know what he would say about this situation."

Gabe sighed, and began pushing the cart towards the doors. "I do too – but that doesn't mean that the Captain would be right in this case, just predictable. Maybe at some time in the future people like you and I could get married without anyone even blinking... but this is not yet that time."

"I don't want you to be just my bit on the side," Peggy said fiercely, as stubborn as he ever was. "I won't have you be my dirty little secret, or anything crass like that."

Gabe stopped and turned to look at her. "We both know that I'm not your bit on the side," he said. "You and I – do we really need to say words in front of witnesses to affirm what we already know is between us? I know it'd make my Mama happy, but I don't need to stand before anyone but God himself as a witness to know that you and I are as good as married already, in every way that counts except the legal one."

"You're a stubborn fool."

"Takes one to know one," he said, and grinned. "But I'm _your_ stubborn fool, for as long as you'll have me."

"You know, there's a solution to your problem," a familiar voice said from nearby, making them both startle and look around, surprised to have been snuck up on. Evelyn was leaning against the wall nearby, still in her wedding dress, holding a pair of high heeled sandals by the straps in one hand.

"Isn't there somewhere you're supposed to be?" Gabe asked, mock-sternly.

"What solution?" Peggy asked, rather more pragmatically.

"Marry yourselves. Jump the broomstick."

"Jump the..." Gabe said, and then trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"A broomstick?" Peggy asked questioningly.

"When our people were slaves, they weren't allowed any legal marriage. So they had customs of their own; one of which was holding hands and jumping over a broomstick in front of witnesses," Evelyn explained to her, straightening up and walking over toward the pair. "We have witnesses here, I'm sure there's a supply closet somewhere that we can scare up a broomstick from. It won't be any _legal_ marriage, not by church law or the law of the land, but in any way that matters to a couple that loves one another, it's as good a marriage as any."

Peggy and Gabe exchanged a long look, twitches of eyebrows and quirks of lips saying what words could not. Gabriel broke out into a grin, then took Evelyn's elbow to draw her closer and kiss her on the cheek. "When did you become so wise?" he asked her fondly, then turned to Peggy, reaching out with his other hand to take one of her hands into his own. "What about it, Margaret? Want to be more than just my best girl?"

"I thought I already was," she said, dryly amused, but let him pull her closer for a kiss as well. "Of course I do," she told him quietly, looking intently into his eyes as she spoke. "I'd marry you in a heartbeat, Gabriel Jones – church, courthouse, or broomstick. All you needed to do is ask."

"Consider yourself asked, then," he said, and kissed her again.

"You two round up a broomstick," Evelyn said, sounding amused as she stepped back. "I'll go find us some witnesses; meet upstairs in the Honeymoon Suite."

* * *

"So Gabe and Peggy jumped a broomstick being held by Jacques and Evelyn Dernier with Gabe's Mama and the Moritas as witnesses; a secret marriage. And far from the first one ever to happen in SHIELD; if anything it was the start of a tradition of the Directors keeping their family life pretty strictly private. A useful security method, when it could be pulled off. Even now I think most people never knew that Nick Fury was married for a while, or to whom, for example."

"He was married? That must have been so hard for his wife, when everything happened last year..."

"Nah, the marriage had ended several years before. I'm sure Melinda still cared about him of course, but she'd have channelled her emotions into more useful things than worry or grief."

"Wait... Melinda? Melinda May? _Our_ Melinda? She'd been married to Director Fury?"

"Yup. But that's not my story to tell. Anyway, getting back to Peggy and Gabe... They maintained a fiction of merely being co-workers for years, and when they travelled it was usually in company of the Derniers. They'd book in to hotel suites together as Director Carter, her aide, her attache and his wife, and if people assumed that Gabe and Evelyn were the married couple, they never bothered correcting the misapprehension. No one else's business who slept in what beds after dark but their own. Peggy and Gabe maintained separate apartments in town to keep up the fiction of being single, but both spent a lot of time staying with the Derniers in their townhouse here... all one big happy family."

"That's so sweet," Jemma said, sounding a little choked up, then frowned slightly. "But didn't they ever have children?"

"Officially no, Peggy Carter didn't have any children until her second marriage, years later. Unofficially... well, these days it's an open secret in the family that my twin uncles aren't fraternal twins at all, they're actually cousins; Peggy took a leave of absence from SHIELD just the once, to spend time with her good friend Evelyn Dernier who was going through a difficult pregnancy..."

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay with this, Evelyn?" Peggy asked anxiously, looking at the two babies lying side-by-side in the crib.

"I'm the one that should be asking you that," Evelyn said, stepping to Peggy's side and slipping one arm around her waist. "One more child to look after isn't going to bother me any; I love being a mother. But leaving, when it's your only son?"

Peggy managed up smile at her. "I know you'll look after him well. It's safer for him, not being known as my child, especially with the threats on my life there's been of late. It's not like I'll never see him, as much time as I spend here. I'll be his honorary Aunt, and he'll be my favourite little nephew... not that I'll play any favourites, of course," she said, a suspicious glitter building up in her eyes.

Evelyn hugged her, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Of course you will," she said, sounding amused. "As will Gabe. When is he due back in the country, anyway?"

"Three more days. I'm sure dropping in to see his newest pair of cousins will be very high on his list of priorities after his return," Peggy said, smiling tremulously.

"He should have been here," Jacques spoke up, from where he was leaning in the doorway of the nursery behind the two women.

"He wanted to be... but we decided that this trip was more important," Peggy said firmly, as she turned to look at Jacques. "Especially since I couldn't make it myself, nor could Howard, and you weren't able to either for obvious reasons."

Jacques walked over to hug and kiss his wife, then kissed Peggy as well. "It still would have been better for him to be here too. You should have had him at your side for this."

"Yes, well, we don't always get what we want. Anyway," she said, and sighed, "I"m back to work tomorrow. Though I'm sure I'll be dropping in on you two every chance I get."

Evelyn smiled warmly at Peggy, and hugged her again. "You know you'll always be welcome in any house of mine," she said firmly. "You're more than just family."

Peggy smiled, and hugged her back with equal warmth. "I know. And so are you and Jacques. And now I really better go... I need a little time to myself at home before I have to head in to work tomorrow and catch up with everything that's been going on while I've been away."

"I've left a summary on your desk," Jacques told her. "With reference numbers to the larger files in case you need them."

Peggy hugged him as well. "Have I told you lately what a treasure you are?" she asked.

He grinned at her. "Can't fail my favourite boss," he told her. "Oh, and Howard is on your schedule for first thing after lunch; he wants to be sure you're properly back up to speed before he heads off to take care of Stark Industries business again."

Peggy grimaced. "Damn. Well, at least that'll get him out of my hair all the sooner, I suppose. I hope he hasn't been making any more new hires while my back was turned?"

"One or two. It's all in the summary."

"Double-damn. I think maybe I'd better stop by the office on my way home to pick up that report; the fewer nasty surprises I have to deal with tomorrow, the better."

* * *

"You mentioned a second marriage?" Jemma said, sounding surprised. "What happened with her and Gabe?"

"Gabe passed away a little over a decade after their marriage; cancer. Afterwards, well... Howard Stark never had twigged about the true nature of the relationship between Peggy and Gabe, and he'd never stopped pursuing her. She certainly wasn't in any mood for that with Gabriel so recently dead. Most of the Commandos knew the truth by then..."

* * *

"How are you holding up today, old girl?" Monty asked, shutting the office door quietly behind him.

Peggy looked up from the papers she'd been reviewing, and managed a tremulous smile. "Better than I was yesterday," she said. "But I'd rather not talk about it here."

"The walls have ears, and so on and so forth?"

Peggy nodded.

"Come to my place for dinner later then? If you're feeling social enough for it?"

Peggy managed a smile. "I think I'd like that, yes. Now, how are things in your department?"

Monty grimaced and took a seat. "A mess. I don't like the rumblings I'm hearing from my contacts down in Cuba, among other things..."

It was almost seven in the evening before both Peggy and Monty felt that they could leave their desks for the day. They were on their way out of the building when they bumped into Howard Stark, standing in the hallway outside one of the labs and skimming over the contents of a clipboard. He glanced up at their approach, then smiled broadly at the pair of them. "Monty! Peggy! You're finishing up early for once. Hey, does this mean if I ask fast I can talk you into dinner out with me, Peggy?" he asked hopefully, falling into step beside them. "I know this great place just up the coast... sorry Falsworth, only room at the tables for two..."

Monty could see the tension building in Peggy's form, even if Howard was blind to it, and decided to interrupt. "Sorry, old boy, but she's already agreed to dine with me this evening."

Howard gave him a startled look, then staggered and mimed a blow to the heart. "Peggy! Don't tell me you're throwing me over for this disreputable Limey! You'll regret it, he'll serve you over-boiled beef and grey vegetables."

Peggy stopped walking and gave Howard a reproving look. "You might remember where I'm from as well before saying things like that," she said, a touch of frost in her voice, then slipped one hand into the crook of Monty's arm. "Come along, James... with you at least I know there'll be _civilized_ conversation, and best of all no groping." She sniffed dismissively and stalked off, all but dragging Monty along with her. He craned his head back to grin at Howard, giving him a brief wave as they left and enjoying the disgruntled expression on the other man's face.

"That was refreshing," he said once they were outside and walking over to Peggy's car. "Has he really tried to grope you?" he asked disapprovingly.

"He's gotten a little closer and more handsy than I'd like a time or two, yes," Peggy said as she slid into the driver's seat, then gave Monty a look. "Not that you have any call to do anything about it; if I decide his fingers need breaking, I can handle it myself."

"I don't doubt that at all, Margaret," he said, smiling cheerfully at her, then looked startled as her face crumpled. "What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed.

"Sorry, it's just... Gabriel always called me Margaret, even though almost no one else ever does," she said, voice strangled and eyes welling with tears.

"Damn, I would choose just the wrong time to put on my best manners, wouldn't I?" he said, and dug a handkerchief out of his front pocket, handing it over to her. "Come on, switch seats," he said, opening the door and getting back out of the car. "Better that I drive than anyone spot you in the parking lot putting on a display of waterworks. You know the sort of unhelpful rumours that would start about you and your fitness for command."

Peggy nodded and slid over to the passenger side, handing over her keys as Monty slid into her place. He started the car and drove away. She was dry-eyed and fully in control of herself by the time they pulled into the parking garage beneath the building where Monty had his apartment. They rode the elevator up in silence.

"Drink?" Monty asked as soon as his front door closed behind them. "Or would you prefer tea?"

"A drink," she said firmly. "A strong one."

"Gin or rum?" he asked moving over to the small bar cabinet at one side of the well-furnished sitting room. "A cocktail, perhaps?"

"A martini?" she asked hopefully.

"Certainly," he said, and started mixing a pair of them. "Getting on your James Bond?"

She laughed. " _No_. Anyway, the spycraft is all wrong in those books."

"Well, better that the general public has all the wrong ideas anyway, isn't it?" he asked.

"True," she agreed, and settled down in one of the overstuffed armchairs near the windows with a relieved sigh, kicking off her low heels. "So what are you planning on feeding me?" she asked.

" _Not_ boiled beef and veg, despite Howard's suggestions to the contrary. I, unlike he, actually have some modest culinary skills. I was thinking a nice pasta prima vera, if that's acceptable?"

"Eminently," she said approvingly. "Mind if I watch you cook, or are you the 'no one else allowed in the kitchen' sort of cook?"

"I quite enjoy an audience," he said, and handed her a martini glass, then gestured to a door off to one side. "This way. There's a quite comfortable high stool you can perch on to watch."

Peggy found herself relaxing while she watched Monty cook, the two chatting companionably as he did. It wasn't until they were seated at the table together that he fell silent, an uncharacteristically solemn expression crossing his face. "Peggy... there's something I'd like to ask you."

"Oh? What?" she asked, looking up from her half-demolished plate of pasta.

"I have a proposal for you. One that would get people like Howard off your back, and my mother off of mine, bless her soul. You're aware of why I've never yet married?"

"Of course I am," she said quietly, setting down her cutlery and giving him a piercing look. "It's why I was quite happy to accept a dinner invitation from you... no danger of groping, remember?"

He gave her an amused look and sat back in his chair. "I'm not entirely immune to the charms of the so-called fairer sex, you know. I just tend to vastly prefer the other. Anyway, as the last remaining scion of my line, my mother tells me regularly that it's my duty to carry on the name, and she keeps throwing bridal candidates in my path; mostly ones with whom I have absolutely nothing in common. I know this is painfully soon after Gabriel's passing, but... would you consider that my hat is in the ring? It wouldn't have to be anything permanent, just a marriage of convenience until an heir and a spare are around and then a divorce, if you wish... with my known proclivities, divorce for cause shouldn't be all that hard to obtain."

"A marriage of convenience," she said thoughtfully, and just sat there for a while, looking at him. He looked back calmly. "I'll consider your hat thrown," she finally agreed, picked up her cutlery, and resumed eating. "This is excellent."

He smiled warmly at her. "Thank you."

* * *

"She did eventually marry him, though she remained in close contact with the Derniers, spending vacation time with them at least once or twice every year; they had a couple places by then, a vacation home over in Provence, in addition to the Washington house, not to mention a property they all owned together out near the old Jones farm, which Gabe's sister's family still worked. Howard finally gave up his pursuit of her, and ended up marrying a young debutante, Maria Carbonell, Tony Stark's mother. Peggy and Falsworth remained married until his death in the line of duty with SHIELD, after which she moved in with Evelyn and Jacques. Her own children were college-aged by then, as were most of theirs. Even after Jacques passed on she and Evelyn remained together, until well after Peggy's retirement, when her deterioration required she go into a nursing home. Grandma visits her there regularly; she's one of the few faces that Peggy still consistently remembers. One of the very few faces left from her youth."

"That's so sad," Jemma said quietly. "But that's why you understand about found family, isn't it? Peggy was your family too."

He smiled. "Yeah, she was always Auntie Margaret when we were growing up, Peggy when we were a little older, and Director Carter once we joined up, as almost all of us did sooner or later. You might call SHIELD our family business; the children and grandchildren of the Commandos are like a big extended family, and most of us were connected to SHIELD in one way or another, before it fell. We all still keep in touch, whether or not we went into SHIELD, and have a reunion every few years. Fair bit of marrying back and forth too, both within the legacies and with other SHIELD agents who were close to the pack of us; that's how my Ma met my dad, despite not being involved in SHIELD herself – he was a friend of one of her brothers and got dragged home to meet the family a time or two. I have cousins that are also descendants of the Moritas and Dugan, plus there's an older Morita-Farnsworth couple I know of over on science side, and I have a so-far-unwed cousin whose sole child is named Aloysius."

"Aloysius? Oh! After Dum-Dum Dugan?"

"Yeah. One of his sons is supposedly the father, though she's never said which one. Though as many bastards as Dugan is known to have had all on his own both before and after his own marriages, there's some suspicion that he himself may have been the culprit. By the timing of it, it must have happened at the big Commandos family reunion the year before, so he and about half his sons were all around at the right time, though so was almost every other male in the group. More power to him if he did; he was long retired by then."

"You say that like it's a matter of pride." Jemma gave him a reproving look.

"Hey, for some men it would be. Not me, but I can appreciate the viewpoint. He'd have been pushing eighty by then after all. That old and still able to talk a fine young woman into his bed? _Damn_ , is all I'm saying."

Jemma laughed, and checked the tea pot, making a face when she found that it was now empty.

"Feeling better now?" Trip asked softly.

"Much," she said. "Something smells delicious. What are you cooking?"

"A big pot of soup. What say we go eat, and then afterwards, maybe I can help you relax some more?"

Jemma raised an eyebrow. "Would this relaxation involve the bedroom?" she asked, and stood up.

"Probably, yeah. Unless you have another location in mind?"

"No, no, the bedroom would be just fine," she said, smiling warmly at him as he picked up the tray. "That is where the bed is, after all."

Antoine grinned as he followed her to the kitchen, setting the tray down on the kitchen counter, and turning to watch while Jemma took down soup plates from the cupboards. "Not in an adventurous mood?"

"Not today," she said, getting out spoons and handing a spoon and soup plate to him before moving to serve herself from the pot. "This smells heavenly. What went into it?"

"Leftovers, mostly... what my Ma would have called a kitchen sink soup. Enjoy it while it lasts, I'll never be able to repeat the exact same combination."

Jemma grinned, and stepped aside so he could serve himself. "I will," she said, taking an appreciative sniff of it, then leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I don't know if I say it enough, but I love you."

"Love you too... even if you do come with a little extra family on the side."

"Says the man who apparently comes with half of SHIELD for relatives."

"Not half! I don't think the commandos and legacies ever made up even a tenth of the thing, and probably a whole lot less."

"Well, yes, but you start factoring in the other agents that they came in contact with, the ones they mentored, the ones who fell on the right side of the SHIELD-HYDRA divide last year because they'd been trained by people who'd had your extended family somewhere in their background..."

"Okay, point taken. And it's a good one. But my extended family is still not half of SHIELD. Family reunions are complicated enough as it is, girl! Speaking of, I'm dragging you along to the next one. And the rest of the gang, too; the family will all want to meet Coulson, so I might as well see that everyone else gets to go too."

"Oh dear. Can you imagine the Director's face?"

Trip grinned. "And Skye as well. For all she makes fun of his enthusiasm, she's got a bit of a thing for Captain America and the Howling Commandos too. Anyway, it'll be fun."

"I'm sure it will be," Jemma agreed. "I look forward to meeting your family."

"Good," he said. "I'm looking forward to it too. My family is going to love you."

"I hope so," she said, worriedly.

"I know so."


End file.
